You & I (Dianna and Lea)
by ficchick321
Summary: My first published Fanfiction... I own no characters mentioned and only own the idea behind this story. Though 'own' may not be the right word. It's a ramble of an idea of what life 'could' have been like one night... What happens when Dianna and Lea can't stay away from each other...At the same time they are drawn to each other, sometimes the universe just isn't on your side
1. Chapter 1

I feel his toned arm drape across my shoulders. He glides his arm down smoothly and his hand ends up resting on my hip. More than anything I'm feeling with him, I feel you. I feel your eyes bearing into us from across the bar. I feel your hand reach quickly for your glass. I feel you gulp down your rum and coke and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. I feel you and your disappointment. I feel your disappointment at the fact that I appear to be enjoying his touch and I also feel your disappointment that you didn't make the move. That maybe it's too late for you, tonight. Maybe I won't be leaving with you like I always _used_ to. We used to sneak away and no one really suspected much. They just thought we were doing what best friends do. Tonight though maybe I will be forcing myself to leave with him and trying to forget you for a few hours. Hours that I know will end with only thoughts of you eventually flooding my system.

Mark leans into my ear and asks if I'd like another beer. All I can do is nod and wait for him to leave. He kisses my cheek and heads to the bar while I immediately make my way towards you. In the last few minutes Chris must have gone to get you another drink because I watch as you reach for it from his hands. He sees me approaching and I must look serious because he shrugs and heads to the pool tables. You grasp your drink in your hand as if your life depends on it. As if you literally won't make it without that drink. This is when I start to worry about you even more.

"Hey." I say with a forced air of casual, sliding into the booth beside you. When I sit by you I feel you slide inches closer to the wall, inches away from me. Afraid of what might happen if we do touch.

"Hey." You husk out in-between gulps of your drink. As far as I can guess it's your fifth. About two more than your average. I reach up and take your hand in mine, setting your drink down against the cracked and sticky wood of the bar table. I forget your current fear of touching me and I break down your barrier.

"What are you doing?" I question and try to find your gaze but you're working so hard to avoid mine.

"What does it look like?" You quickly throw back. Somehow this statement is mixed with sorrow, bitterness, and curiosity to just how obvious your feelings are.

I pause and think about what to say, carefully measuring my words. "It looks like you're trying to get shitfaced." I state matter of factly, attempting to avert what I know you really were addressing.

You pick up your drink again and shake your head. "And why in the world would I want to do that, Dianna?" You plead with me, your gaze finally meeting mine. I feel your free hand against mine under the table. Your fingers dance across the top of my hand and I instinctually turn my hand over, palm up. Allowing you to trace patterns and play with my fingers like you always used to: before things got so complicated.

I see Mark make his way over to us before you do. I try not to visibly sigh when I feel your fingers stop abruptly and then see you lift your hand from under the table. It goes around your drink and I see your knuckles briefly turn white under the pressure of your grip.

"Here you go." Mark grins as he slides me my gin and tonic across the table, sitting in the booth across from us. "How's it going Lea?" He asks and I pray that you don't let the alcohol take effect. I pray to whatever or whoever is listening that you'll hold it in until he walks away.

"It's all just fine. How are _you_?" You question, as if you're just asking him to mention me. Just asking him to hurt you even more. It's sad though because he doesn't even know what he is doing, but it makes you hate him even more.

Mark grins and winks playfully at me. "Oh you know..."

"Great." You mutter too quickly. Luckily, before Mark can question you, Naya is yelling for him to come play pool. He is off quickly with a smile and assurance that he will be back soon enough. To this I can only fake a smile. Because yes, he is a really good friend who I enjoy spending time with, but I don't miss him like he misses me. I don't care like I _should, _if we were to become an official item. But the guilt can't completely consume me, I need to at least be able to pretend that he is enough. That you didn't leave such a void.

I turn to you in the booth and accidently brush my leg against yours as I pull it up into the seat. I see you flinch, and I feel like I could start crying at any moment. I feel like we are both at this awful place. This awful place where almost everything we do will hurt the other person. Even the smallest gesture can be taken the wrong way. Hurting one another has been the norm these past weeks and I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

"I'm sorry." I mutter and my hands fall in my lap. I used to be so sure what to do with my hands. My hands used to find you. Now they seem like they aren't even mine anymore. They don't know what is allowed and what is prohibited. So they falter and they rest awkwardly, just like my words do when they leave my lips.

"Yeah, me too." You say defeatedly.

I know what you may be sorry for but I find myself asking for clarification anyway, "What are you sorry for?"

You turn your chocolate eyes to me quickly before diverting them back to your glass, somehow already more than half way empty. You look so sad. Your usual upbeat demeanor is so beaten down I can hardly recognize you. Your usually playful smile hasn't made an appearance in days. Your perfected body isn't up and elegant, its dejected and pained.

You take in a raspy breath before your confession, "I'm sorry I haven't been able to give you what you want. I'm sorry that I haven't been brave enough. I'm sorry that I can't be the one to wrap an arm around you, kiss you_ in public_, and buy you a drink." You pause briefly and all I can do is stare, stare at your lips as the truth continues to fall from them. "I'm sorry that I'm getting drunk because I can't look anymore. I can't watch what I _want_ walk around a bar with someone else. I can't take it anymore." You start to squirm and mumble that you need out of the booth. I quickly slide out allowing you an exit to leave. Though I don't want you to. I also don't want to make you stay. I don't want to watch as I somehow torture you. I torture you because I'm afraid to wait for you. I'm afraid that I'm going to get left behind. I waited for so long and had you so close. But you pushed me away and my hearts afraid to fully wait for you. It's afraid it will get left all alone, even worse off than before.

We both just stand there, right in front of our booth. I'm looking at your downcast face as you will yourself to look up from our feet and finally at me. You finally _look_ at me. And that is when you keep apologizing. "And most of all...I'm sorry for myself, because you are all I will ever want and I can't fucking take it." Your eyes are about to brim over with tears and I move my hand to reach up and cup your face in my hands.

You're about to push away from me. You're about to leave and I'm not ready for you to leave me just yet. So I recklessly say something you've never been able to resist, "Come home with me tonight."

Your jaw clenches and you push your cheek into my palm, begging for the contact for another moment before you think you are going to break away. "I can't." You glance up and breathe out threw clenched teeth. "You and Mark." You state and your eyes move from mine and focus on him over my shoulder in the distance.

"He will be fine." I state dismissing him as quickly as I can. I don't even feel guilty about it because I know that he will indeed be just fine. I know he won't hold it against me so I take advantage of his forgiving nature toward my mistakes.

"No." you say and put your hands around my forearms, slightly pushing me away. "Take him home with you and have a fucking fantastic time." You practically demand. I'm even more caught off guard by your cursing the second time around. This is different and I don't like watching your anger grow and be directed more closely to me.

Hurt registers quickly and my brow furrows as I look down. You cross your arms against your chest and stare at me as if you are testing me. You're trying to get me to pass a test you know I will fail. Because anytime passing a test means not picking you, we both know I'm going to fail. "I can't." I confess.

"Why?" you demand again getting angry. I can't tell if you're angry at yourself or me at this point. "Why can't you just move on so I know you're happy. Why do you have to be around for me all the time? Why do you have to be so fucking perfect?" You sputter, and I know that you're now angry at me. You're angry that I can't help but treat you with love and attentiveness. I've tried alternative approaches and nothing else works for long.

I'm not going to give your anger back to you. I'm not going to allow you to get away. "Because, I want you with me. I want you, even if it's just tonight. I can't help it." I say sincerely. Because it is the truth. I can't move on yet even though I know you can't give me everything I need. I know you may not ever be able to. Instead of moving on though, I continue to come back for more. I continue to perpetuate this cycle of love and hurt. Because when you kiss me, I feel like everything is in its place and when he kisses me, all I want to feel is you. "I miss you." I confess as my hand reaches out to touch your hip.

Your arms unfold and drop to your side. "Okay. I'll go home with you," you state in a somewhat defeated tone. "Either way, I'm going to hate myself." You sigh and make your way towards the door mumbling something I can't quite understand.

I say goodbye to everyone and explain that I'm taking you home, claiming that you don't feel well. Which people thankfully don't question after seeing your behaviour and drinking tonight. Mark offers me help, which I deny, and he promises to call me tomorrow. I lean up and kiss his cheek for understanding, and as a way to avoid a proper kiss. I turn from his smiling and understanding face and make my way back to you.

I find you outside leaning against my car. You offer a weak smile as I unlock the door and help you in. I whisper for you to stop hating yourself before shutting your door and making my way to the drivers side.

"How can I not," You pick up, "I'm such a coward." You mumble into your hands and I see your shoulders shake as your sob finally breaks loose from deep in your chest.

"You aren't a coward. You're just scared." I state honestly and start the car. "I am too."

I feel you turn to face me in your seat. "But you were willing to...you know." You draw out, alluding to my confession weeks before. My confession that I would be with you. That I would defend us against the world if you would just claim me, claim me as yours. If you would just commit to me and promise me things I needed to hear. Things I expected from someone who loved me so much. If you would just be mine outside the walls of our homes and our secrets.

But you couldn't. You claimed that you never would be able to, and that is when everything changed. That is when I gathered my things from the dark of your room. That is when I left. I knew the whole time that I'd never be able to leave completely. But I had to give myself a fighting chance, you said you'd never be able to change. I knew that I'd never be able to resist you, even though I knew that you couldn't be exactly what you wanted to be for me. I knew that something was holding you back. Something is still holding you back. For the first time in weeks though, I'm ignoring it. I'm taking you home even though I know you still won't be able to give me what I need. You won't be able to legitimize your feelings and I'll have to continue to hide away with you. And then you'll leave, or force me to.

"I'm still scared." I state again. This time I hope you get the double meaning between my statement. I'm scared of not getting you, I'm scared of never fully getting what I want. I'm scared because I've had a taste of how happy I can be. I'm scared that I'll never find that happiness with anyone else. Part of me just knows that there isn't really a way that two people in the world can make me feel that way. That two people can know me so well and make me feel so many things. I just know that there aren't two people out there like that, there is just _you_. You only reaffirm this thought when I look over at your watery eyes and my heart continues to break. I can't be mad at you for not giving me everything because you already give me more than anyone else ever will. I reach across the car and cup your cheeks in my hand for the second time tonight. This time they are newly moistened with your salty tears. Tears I hate to see you shed. So I do the only thing I can think of, I lean closer. I hear you sigh so pitifully right before our lips graze against one another. I kiss you slowly, pressing my lips against yours. I'm trying to tell you that it will be okay, through this kiss, even though I'm not sure I totally believe in the notion myself. I'm putting everything into the kiss as I hear you moan when I take your lower lip in mine quickly. I slowly pull back watching your swollen lower lip pout out further at the loss of contact. I give you another reassuring kiss and watch as your heavy eyelids open once-again. They connect with mine and they say _thank you._ With that, I put the car into drive and make my way out of the parking lot. Taking us both to my familiar house in silence.

I wake up before you do and am careful not to move too quickly. I untangle our limbs carefully and slip out of bed. I start walking toward the bedroom door and turn for a moment. I'm not sure when the time will come again when I get to look at you in this way. My eyes scan over your sprawled out form in my bed. You've made a mess of the sheets, like usual. This little detail among thousands makes me smile.

I somehow managed to make you put on boxer shorts and a shirt last night before you passed out from exhaustion, clocking in at 3:37 am. I already miss the warmth of your body as I pad down the hall after securely clicking the bedroom door into place. Last night we had a few hours where we were just _us. _We laid around curled up together on the couch. You drunkenly sang me a song. We laughed. We cried. But we were navigating through our night in our own unique way. Reluctantly, we knew sleep was catching up to us after all we did to fight it. After you got settled in bed, I leaned over and kissed you, knowing that I could no longer expect you to be here the next night. You mumbled a _goodnight _into my shoulder and pulled me closer.

Just like every other morning, I make coffee. Which you always claim is the best you've ever had. I converted you to a coffee drinker, something you say you'll now never, ever give up. I make my way out to the patio and carefully pull the screen closed behind me. I don't know what to do with us anymore. I don't even know what to do with myself anymore. We've never been this stuck. I guess that is what honesty can get you. So far it's only gotten us confusion, fear, and separation. All these thoughts run through my head and I don't even acknowledge the cigarette in my hands until I'm inhaling the smoke. I take slow and deep drags, trying to only concentrate on smoking, and not allow my thoughts of you to truly register.

I hear a groan come from the bedroom and realize that you're awake, and feeling the effects of last night. I put out my cigarette and run my hands through my hair, making my way back inside to the kitchen. I reach for my mug. I reach for yours and I sigh. For a moment I picture myself throwing _your_ mug across the room and it shattering into dozens of pieces. You're antique mug that we picked out together at a flea market. I picture myself standing there looking at the mess of ceramic pieces with more frustration than I have ever felt before. But I find myself adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar to our coffees and carrying them down the hall. Maybe I'll throw them another day.

I slowly open the door and peak in. You're sitting up in the middle of the bed, sheets wrapped around your legs, and you're rubbing your eyes in what looks like an attempt to rub away your hangover. You notice me as your putting your hair up into a messy bun. I can't help but smile as I move closer and hand you your coffee. I usually find you extra adorable in the mornings, something you used to say to me too. Back when we didn't have to censor things, back when you were allowed to love me and say I was "flawless and breathtaking even at 6 am" to an interviewer.

You reach for the coffee like you reached for your drink last night. A different type of desperation registers in you this morning. "Thank you." You mumble.

I move to sit beside you, careful to keep somewhat of a distance between our pajama clad bodies. We both sip our coffee in silence for a moment before you "Mmm" into your cup and described the coffee as "So good." Nudging my shoulder with yours.

"No problem." I state and lean my head against your shoulder. We always have the shortest spurts of not touching. We only respect each others boundaries for a short time, because we really know what the other person wants. We know what the other person is craving. Distance has never been a part of our relationship.

The next words seem to fall from my lips before I can even truly register them, "What are we going to do Lea?" I question, needing to figure some things out before you have a chance to leave.

You sigh and turn to me. Your lips are just below my ears "You smoked, didn't you?" You ask, knowing the answer all along. You hate it when I smoke. I do too, but sometimes my stress gets the better of me, it's happened to you too before. Unfortunately, it's happened to me more recently.

All I can do is nod lightly. I take in a sharp breathe when I feel your lips brush across the delicate skin of my neck. You drag your lips across the skin and I gulp knowing that I can't. We can't. Not now. Not the morning after your drunk confessions and my pleading for you to sleep over. We can't just fall back into _everything_. We can't play house because we already destroyed it. We can't pretend because we are passed that. The truth has broken down the walls we built, the secrets we kept. There is no going back, and you knew that the moment you told me you didn't think you'd ever be able to be with me, like _we_ need.

"Don't." I desperately get out and you freeze immediately. You pull your lips away and bit your lower one, your dark brown eyes downcast as you lean against the headboard again.

"Sorry." You grumble while staring into your coffee cup. "You just always look so...so...much like..."

"So much like what?" I gently probe.

"Like you should be mine." And with your confession I feel the wind get knocked out of me. I love that you said that but at the same time I hate it so much. You give me too much to not be able to give me everything. It's these little teasing moments that hurt me every time I'm around you.

I set my coffee down on the nightstand and start to pace around the room. I try to gather my thoughts so that I can clearly articulate to you what I'm feeling. I can't let my emotions get out of control in front of you. I have to hold it together, or at least try to. "How can you...why would you say that to me?" I question and turn to stare at you. You look like you could cry and it makes it harder to stay mad at you.

"I'm sorry...I wasn't thinking." You try to explain.

"Well you can't. I know I shouldn't have asked you over and I'm sorry. I should have dropped you off and left you alone. And it's my fault that I couldn't do that last night. But you can't say things like that..." I start to shake my head and sit on the end of the bed facing away from you.

"I'm sorry." You echo.

"It's just like a slap in the face, you know." I turn to you and wipe the tears from my eyes.

"It just confirms that you love me, and want me, but won't take me. I mean I'm pretty much fucking standing in front of you begging you to love me, and you won't fully."

You swiftly move to sit beside me and your hand hovers above my leg before falling back into your own lap. "D, I don't mean to. I didn't mean to."

I know that you don't mean to hurt me, but I can't help the anger that begins to fester inside of me.

"I can't let you keep breaking my heart." I sniff.

"I know...I'm trying." You plead and lift your hand to my cheek, brushing away a tear.

"Trying to what? Figure out a way to secretly be with me and never own up to a relationship?" I acknowledge and pull my cheek away.

You look hurt at my words, "No, I mean I don't know exactly."

I stand up and grab our empty mugs making my way to the kitchen alone. I hear you trailing behind a few moments later and I head for the patio again. This time I ignore the screen and leave it open knowing that you'll follow me in a few seconds. I've already lit the cigarette and am taking a few drags when you comment that I need to stop smoking. It's my worst vice and I'll fix it later.

"You know what I _need_. I need someone who knows what they want. I need someone who will own up to their feelings. I need someone who thinks I'm worth it. And you can't give me that, so please don't give me advice about smoking Lea." I say all this and only regret it for a second before you infuriate me even more. You're trying to fix it and I'm not going to let you. I'm not letting you get away with it anymore. I've loved you and let you break my heart over and over again but this morning I'm just pissed at myself and for the first time I can remember, I'm genuinely pissed at you.

"You are worth..." You begin before I cut you off.

"Don't you dare. Don't you even dare." And you immediately stop your thought.

"Dianna, can't we try and see. I miss you." You urge.

"No, we can't. Because it's hard to try something again when I already gave everything. I don't do that normally. You know me. I'm not exactly forth coming with emotion at first. And I let you in, look where that got me." I throw up my hands "I can't do this to myself anymore. If you kissed me right now it would take everything I have to pull away." I pause and compose myself, trying to figure out what exactly I need to get across. "That's not good for me."

As I put out my cigarette I feel your hands around my waist. You turn me so I'm facing you and pull me close. Your thumbs graze across the skin of my hipbones.

"You mean I'm not good for you. Right?"

I frown and hide my face in your neck. I barely nod but know you can feel my answer.

You tilt your head and kiss my cheek. I feel you squeeze my hips before all contact is gone. You make it a few feet before you turn around and face me. I only know this because I can hear your movements. I can't see anything because I haven't stopped looking at the spot you just were. This, this right here is really it. I'm losing my best friend, and I'm losing everything.

"You are worth it. And one day I'll be worth it too."

And with that you leave and I cry even harder when I hear the front door close because I don't believe you anymore. I don't believe a word you say.


	2. Chapter 2: A Letter to Lea

Lea,

I heard from my 'sources', and of course you know it's Chord the messenger, that you've wanted to reach out but just didn't know how. So I thought I'd do something authentic and honest and so very 'me' by writing you this letter in hopes that you'll know it is all okay - it might be drastically different than months before - but perhaps it's just the wheel of the world.

On a side-note I also hear you got a call back for your 'big Broadway role of a lifetime' and I'm so very happy for you. You deserve it, there's no talent that could outshine yours. I hope all else is well. But if I'm being honest I've heard it hasn't been great for you recently, apart from career aspirations. But we all know that you're going to get what you want in that realm, sooner or later. No one can stop you Miss Michele.

I guess I just wanted to write to you, and let you know not to worry so much. Not to torture yourself completely over _this. _I've been a lot better recently. Normalcy is starting to actually become a regular thing in my life again. Who knew I'd crave the consistency of a new normal. Right after it all kind of 'fell apart' (as much as I hate to say that) I would just go through the motions and people seemed to be okay with it eventually, I guess they can only hear "I'm fine" so many times before they stop asking. They could pick up on our distance, on a dissolving relationship of sorts. Those who I _want _to know about everything - well yes of course they know. And the others, well they may not have noticed anyway. The press won't let it go though and that may be the worst. They can't help it so I try to smile and act polite and charming. I remember the time you told me how much you admired my 'sincere charm' as you put it. It was right before you kissed my cheek for the first time). Anyway, they all ask similar questions: "How's Lea? Have you all kept up with everything wrapping up and the season ending?" and all I can do is smile and say that we've both been busy, that you're doing great things and work has been almost all consuming. Then small talk ensues about 'all work and no play' and what I think about the various projects I've been a part of. But really I'm biting my tongue behind my smile and thinking "If you only knew." Because Glee gave me so much, it's an irreplaceable part of my heart and life. It gave me things that taught me just how much you can miss something.

So yes, I've been fine and I'm getting better in all honesty. The confusion, the hurt, it's faded for the most part. The fake smiles around our old friends may actually be turning sincere. But when I say fine, even if I say I'm great - I'm sure you know there will always be an ache of some sorts when it comes to you.

One thing is that I can't remember the last time I got a full nights rest. Weeks ago I'd guess?

I knew it would happen that way though, that I'd miss it _this _much. Because really - when it comes down to it - I wouldn't dare to replace_ your _ side of the bed. At least not yet, maybe years down the road I'll find someone to love, someone to give this heart to, or at least what I tell you you can't keep. Because even when I'm doing fine, I still don't know how I'd be around you...Less than charming, a mess maybe? And we both know how much I'd hate that.

I really do hope you're getting better. I want you to be doing great, to be living it up and not just going through the motions. Neither of us should feel that way, wouldn't you say that? I hope if you have an ache too, maybe it brings a smile to your face, and hopefully not a sad one.

I hope you know, even if I tried not to (which I never would fathom trying) I will always, always love you. I'd fly to you this moment if you needed it. But, from the other side of the pond whatever we have still reaches - because I've been doing really well - but can't seem to erase the outline of you from my mind. So, I guess I'll have to 'embrace it' for now like I always said.

Really, there's nothing else I could try. It's so very _you, _this heart-wrenching love, this distance, this silence, this shift - so theatrical I know you'd love it from a stage. But it gets a bit blurry up close.

Though I'm sorry to say that I can't let myself hold on to the idea of _us _as I'd imagined, I know there will always be some version of 'us' out there in the universe. And I will hold on to the idea that it'd be great to see you. Really great. Whatever mess we are, I'd just like to see you sooner rather than later.

Sincerely,

Di


End file.
